One-shots
by ajokeusernamecontainingapun
Summary: A group of individual stories in which I put a twist on something or I simply write up an idea that I have. If you want a certain thing to appear as a one-shot, just put it in the reviews and I'll have a go at it.
1. Intro

I haven't done self inserts before. Don't crucify me. Jk, I'm not expecting anybody to read this. Anyway, the way this is going to work is that if you want a chapter on something just leave it in the reviews and, if I like it, I might do one on it. There'll be limitations to that, obviously because if it's a book I haven't read or a game I haven't played etc I obviously can't do it. If you have an idea for a chapter, also say whether you want it to be self-insert, e.g. character x reader, and, if so, which character and what the main idea of the story is (what character you spend most of your time with, what you do etc). Or if you have a crazy idea, just tell me. Right, so let's get down to business. Sorry for the really long author's note. I think this is going to be fun.


	2. Winnie the Pooh with zombies

Chapter Two in which Pooh goes visiting and gets into a tight space

AN: This is based off of a review in which a guest asked if I could rewrite a chapter of Winnie the Pooh, but all the trees would be zombies and Piglet would be a badass. This is my attempt to meet such a magnificent request.

Edward Bear, known to his friends as Winnie-the-Pooh, or Pooh for short, was walking through the barren landscape that had one been the Forest, humming proudly to himself. Why was he so proud, you ask? Well, because what he was humming was so repetitive and annoying that it drove every single zombie away, of course! Although the undead do not have cognitive thought, they are absolute hipster snobs when it comes to music. If they hear anythingem that sounds remotely like modern pop music, they make like an emo hearing the g note and go off to join the bla- sorry, I mean cry. Yeah. Cry. Like I am definitely not about to do right now after thinking of that. (When I was a young boy...) Anyway, let's get back to Pooh. He'd made up the little hum that very morning, as he was doing his Stoutness Exercises™ in front of the glass: Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, as he stretched up as high as he could go, and then Tra-la-la, tra-la - oh, help! - la, as he tried to reach his toes. After breakfast he had said it over and over to himself until he had learnt it off by heart, and know he was humming it to right through, properly. it went like this:

Tra-la-la,tra-la-la,  
Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,  
Rum-tum-tiddle-um-tum,  
Tiddle-iddle, tiddle-iddle,  
Tiddle-iddle, Tiddle-iddle,  
Rum-tum-tum-tiddle-um.

Well, he was humming this to himself, (not knowing this would later be stolen by Ariana Grande for her next hit) and walking gaily along, wondering what everybody else was doing, and what if felt like, being somebody else (this is why I had existential crises as a child), when suddenly he came to a sandy bank, and in the bank was a large hole.

"Aha!" said Pooh, inbetween that song that drives even the sanest man in the world crazy. "If I know anything about anything, that hole means Rabbit," he said, "and Rabbit means Company," he said, "and Company means Food and god, do I love Food, especially when I don't have to pay for it!"  
"So he bent his gluttonous self down, put his head into the hole, and called out: /p  
"Is anybody at home?"  
There was a sudden scuffling noise from inside the hole, and then silence.  
"What I said was, "Is anybody at home?"" called out Pooh very loudly.  
"No!" said a voice: and then added , "You needn't shout so loud. I heard you the first time."  
"Bother!" said Pooh. "Isn't there anybody here at all?"  
"Nobody."  
Winnie took his head out of the hole, and thought to himself that there must be someone there to say that nobody was there. So he went back in, and asked if it was Rabbit in the hole.  
"No," said Rabbit, with a 'begone thot' sort of tone in his voice.  
"But isn't that Rabbit's voice?"  
"I don't think so," said Rabbit. "It isn't meant to be."  
"Oh!" said Pooh.

AN: this is getting boring so I'm gonna sum it up for you. They chat for a while then Pooh comes into Rabbit's house and then they chat more and then Pooh is greedy and has two toppings on his bread and then doesn't eat the bread like the fatso he is and he runs out of food because he ate all of Rabbit's food and decides to leave and gets stuck in the hole because he gained so much weight.

Rabbit left out the back door and tried to pull Pooh out from the hole, screaming a Taylor Swift song to ward off the horde approaching him. Because Pooh was so incredibly fat, he didn't budge. Rabbit decided that he was most definitely stuck, and remarked that someone had eaten too much, and that he knew that it wasn't him. (The original savage back in 1926) He decided that he needed Christopher Robin, as he couldn't shift Winnie-the-Lardball.

Christopher Robin lived at the other side of the Wasteland, and when he came back with Rabbit, his voice was hoarse from singing Baby by Justin Bieber. Robin cheerfully called Pooh a silly old bear and said that Pooh would have to wait to get thin, which he estimated would take about a week. Instead of meals, he would be read to, which sucks because Christopher Robin is like five and can't read anything except the simplest of books. Rabbit began to use Pooh as a towel rack as Robin read extremely slowly and Pooh hummed to keep away the swarming undead.

hour later, a small figure carrying a lead pipe swaggered over to the hole and the boy who was only slightly taller than him.  
"'Sup?" Piglet said to them, adjusting his sunglasses. He was chewing something, which made everyone feel anxious. A classic tough guy, Piglet didn't take crap from anybody.  
"I seem to be in a bit of a pickle," Winnie-the-Pig replied. Piglet blew a large pink bubble and knocked a zombie's head off with his pipe, which he brandished with pride.  
"Step aside, twerp. I got this." Christopher Robin ran home in fear, because the small pink creature really intimidated him. Pooh could see why. "Sing."  
"Pardon?"  
"I said sing, you bastard."  
"Oh. Yes, of course..." Pooh muttered, and began to sing All About That Bass loudly. Piglet dropped his pipe, cracked his neck and his knuckles, and gripped Pooh's ankles tightly. He began to pull, and Rabbit knew that Piglet had arrived because the whole house began to shake. He ran outside, and watched Piglet work. With three more swift yanks, Pooh was free of the hole.  
"Thank you, oh, thank you!" Rabbit exclaimed, despite the fact that his favourite tea towels were lying in the dirt. "You're so brave, Piglet!"  
"Oh, please. Just looking out for the living." And with a swift wink in Rabbit's direction, he picked up his pipe and began to head home, slaughtering zombies along the way. Rabbit, however, was literally swooning. Chub-chub decided that this was none of his business and went away, presumably to steal Food from Roo and Kanga.


	3. A writing prompt thingy

**AN: I know that I haven't uploaded at all in ages, but I never really felt motivated to write, and everything that I did write just felt very sub-par, and I don't want to force anyone to read my garbage. This is also the reason why I decided to remove the last chapter, as, rereading it some time later, I was in no way proud of it as it was me talking about myself and events in a blog-style fashion, which I know isn't fun to read and I didn't want that style/type of writing associated with me anymore. if you haven't read it, then trust me, you weren't missing much. It was terrible and, in hindsight, I'm disappointed in myself for even considering it worth uploading anyway.**

 **I believe that this writing prompt comes from Tumblr, though I don't know who came up with it as that's not where I encountered it and no credit was given by the person who posted it on a different website. The prompt asks to include the line** **'I know how it ends, of course I know. I just forgot how it began.' I thought that this might make for something at least remotely interesting, so I gave it a go. As always, legit** **criticism is always welcome as I'm looking to further develop my writing style into something worth reading, so if you have any ideas of how this can be improved, let me know! (Yeah, I know how short this actual story is very short but I enjoyed writing it so I hope someone'll read it at least once.)**

Writing prompt thingy

"I know how it ends, of course I know. I just forgot how it began."

"That's how it always is, huh? What a waste."

His eyes snapped open, his face drenched in sweat. He'd had one of those dreams again. The dreams always seemed the same, yet they never were. They never made sense - they seemed disconnected from anything that he could even begin to comprehend. He stumbled out of his room and into the bathroom across the hall. The single dangling lightbulb failed to illuminate the room properly, causing the corners and awkward areas of the room to be completely cloaked in shadow.

He rose his head, staring into the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, with huge purple and blue bags rimming the space underneath. Beads of sweat caused his skin to glisten in the low lighting, and his long, greasy hair hung in a seemingly disgusting manner. He was unrecognisable, seeming to fit in with the grimy bathroom. He was such a shadow of the man that he'd been.

Returning to bed, he struggled to sleep again. Once he got to sleep, the dream began again.

"Why do you always say that?"

"Say what?"

"You know, the thing. You always say it at the end. Without fail."

"Because it's true. What a waste."

He awoke to sunlight shining through the thin curtains. He began to follow his morning routine, pulling on the same baggy, overly large clothing. He completed his usual tired clumsy walk to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, gazing back up into his own eyes, with that strange, unfamiliar recognisable face staring right back at him. He was a shell of a man, his charisma and charm completely destroyed, losing him his only worth - the field of people. Once a symbol of youth and beauty, everything that he had stood for was completely gone. There was nothing left of him anymore. He had nothing. He _was_ nothing.

What a waste.


End file.
